


Priscilla's Pet

by OneDyingWish



Category: Re:ゼロから始める異世界生活 | Re:Zero Starting Life in Another World (Anime)
Genre: Abuse, Anal Play, Anime-only, Ass Play, BDSM, Bondage, Canon Divergent, Collar, Crying, Cunnilingus, Dark, Dildos, Discipline, Domination, Emilia being broken, F/F, Hateful lesbian Priscilla, Hot Wax Play, Humiliation, Imprisonment, Lesbian Sex, Mental Abuse, Nipple Piercings, Physical Abuse, Porn With Plot, Sadomasochism, Sexual Slavery, Shower Sex, Slavery, Smut, Spanking, Twisted, Unwholesome, Vibrators, buttplug, toe sucking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:07:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24795898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneDyingWish/pseuds/OneDyingWish
Summary: Alternate world where Priscilla wins the royal selection and becomes Queen of Lagunica. Her first act is to take the notorious half-elf Emilia into custody, who she proceeds to break and sexually enslave. Porn with smatterings of plot.
Relationships: Emilia/Priscilla Barielle, Emilia/Priscilla Barielle/Elsa Granhiert
Comments: 17
Kudos: 54





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not a light novel reader. Also contains my own worldbuilding and completely different backstories for Priscilla and Emilia and others.

_ Why are you crying? _

_ Stop crying. _

_ Don't you get it? You don't have a place anymore. _

_ Your place is with me. _

_ You belong to me. _

\---------------

Emilia stirred awake, alone. It had been over a month by now, but this ceiling would never be familiar to her. Nor the bed, nor the window with its bars, nor the heavy oaken door, sealed to her from the outside. 

She blinked away tears. 

Truth be told, it was a comfortable prison. Her bed was vast and filled with the softest feathers; she had a small library to herself; and even her own adjacent bathroom and tub. Her 'cell' was quarters fit for a lady—after all, she lived down the hallway from the Queen. She liked to keep Emilia close. 

It was too bright in here already. She sat up in her bed and drew up her knees, burying her face in them. It was always the same thoughts. She missed Puck. She missed Rem and Ram, Roswaal, Beatrice, even Subaru. The tears dripped quietly down her face, unbidden. She touched her face and looked at them, almost ambivalently. 

"My morning routine, huh..."

Maybe Priscilla would let her see one of them, if she pleased her. She didn't know what had happened to Roswaal and Beatrice—but the last thing she had seen before the bag went over her head was Rem, Ram, and Subaru, face down in the dirt and restrained. She whispered a prayer for their safety, and that Priscilla might be kind and merciful. 

Puck was probably never coming back, though. 

She wiped her face on one of the blankets and dragged herself off the bed. The clock said half past seven—she knew from her habits that the Queen probably wouldn't be up for two or three more hours. It was as good a time as any to take a bath. She liked her pink and clean and smelling sweet, after all. 

She lumbered to the bathroom and turned on the faucet, stripping off her underwear as the water warmed up. She was thankful that she had her own functioning tub, at least, and didn't have to contend with the serving ladies. They always gave her hateful and suspicious looks that made her shrink and feel awful inside. One time when they brushed her hair, they were so rough with her that it brought tears to her eyes. The last thing she needed was any more manhandling.

She stepped in. It was so hot it was almost scalding, but she liked it like that. It purified, like the catharsis of a good hard cry. Though admittedly, that hadn't brought her much relief as of late. 

She hugged her knees to her face again. Bathing reminded her of the great big baths at the Roswaal mansion, days when her and Ram and Rem would laugh and whisper and wash one another. It was nicer with other people. Whether sleeping or bathing or eating, it was nicer with others. 

She hung her head. 

When she had finished soaping and scrubbing herself down and shaving her legs and armpits and privates, she stepped out. She dried herself off and put on the scented oils that Priscilla liked—dabbing her wrists, her neck, between her breasts, the back of her knees. Before, it had made her frustrated, but why bother? It was only one other way that Priscilla marked her as hers—like the hickeys on her neck, the little bruises and welts, the gilded studs in her nipples, or most of all, the cursed seal on her lower back. That had hurt like a burning brand when that woman had done it to her—not Priscilla, but the  _ other _ one, even crueler. Deep violet swirls in her skin, like a tattoo, a manifestation of foreign mana imprinted on her body that choked off her own magic circuits and all ability to commune with spirits. When the searing pain had faded, she felt like a sense had been torn away from her, or a limb severed. The phantom pain was always with her, just like the loved ones she hadn't seen in months. 

She sighed. It was too easy to get lost here, lost in her own longings. That would do no good. 

It was only ten past 8. More time to kill. She looked for a book from the shelves—but nothing really interested her right now, and the first one she pulled out was "A Historie on the Multifarious and Moste Diabolical Crimes of the Witche," which was inauspicious. She settled for a copy of the fairy tale "The Snow Maiden," curling up in bed and reading to herself. It only took her a little while to drift off into sleep. 

\---------------

"Emiliaaaa." 

When she saw Priscilla's grinning face looming above her, she startled and gasped. The Queen only laughed at her, and so did the serving lady behind her. 

"Y-Your Grace!" 

"Didn't I tell you to be awake for me? I've gone to the trouble of bringing you breakfast, and you're asleep?" 

"I-I'm so sorry, your Grace..." Her eyes darted around uncertainly. She wasn't sure what to do. Priscilla was sitting on the edge of her bed, having ambushed her for all intents and purposes. She was still lying on her back, under the covers. Should she get on the floor and kneel? Should she—

"Leave," the Queen ordered curtly towards the serving woman. She shut the door behind her, having left a plate of food on the table. They were alone.

Instantly, Priscilla took hold of her chin roughly and leaned in towards her neck, inhaling deeply. "Mm. Good. You washed up for me, didn't you?" 

Emilia winced in her grip. "Y-Yes, your Grace..." 

"Look at you, in your slutty little gown." She pulled down the sheets and fingered the shoulder strap of her chemise, then trailed down to poke her in the breasts and graze her pierced nipple. "This is such a low cut. What are you, a whore?" 

"N-No Madam, I—" 

She slapped her lightly on the cheek, just enough to surprise her. "Wrong. You're my whore. Don't forget that." 

"A-Ah... yes, your Grace..." She, of course, made no mention of the fact that Priscilla's own dress dipped far lower than hers, or of her long, exposed white leg. The Queen stood up with a smirk and sashayed over to the table with Emilia's plate. She brought it back and placed it on the bed so that the soup sloshed around and almost spilled on the sheets. She took a spoonful of hearty cheese and bacon soup and shoved it unexpectedly into Emilia's mouth. 

"Mmnng!" It was hot. 

"Don't you like it, slave? I'm feeding you."

She turned to the side and coughed. It appeared she had to suffer another one of the Queen's random whims. "Yes, your Grace. It's... the highest honor to be fed by you." 

"Mm, yes, it really is." She served her another hot spoonful, grinning as she obediently gulped it down. The heat was making her eyes water. "You don't seem to be too enthusiastic, though... I really need to work on you some more," she said, smiling and looking her over. 

"Anyway," she stood up. "Eat the rest of that," she gestured to the plate, "brush your teeth, and come see me in my room. Today is exciting, did you know? Well, not that you would know. Hehe." 

"I will, your Grace. Thank you for the honor of serving m—"

She realized her mistake too late. 

"Serving you? Haah? Did you just say serving? I think you've got it mixed up...!" 

Emilia cringed and turned her face away, bracing for the blow to come. Instead, she felt fingers trace along the bottom of her jaw. She reluctantly opened her eye to see Priscilla smirking and leaning in close enough to feel her breath. She whispered and cupped her cheek.

"You've still got  _ so _ much to learn, but I'm here to teach you. Make me happy today, Emilia. Okay?" 

"...Yes, your Grace." 

She left her with a kiss on the forehead, rustling strands of white hair with her fingertips as she departed. 

Emilia let out a heavy sigh and laid her forearm across her face. She wanted to cry, so badly, but Priscilla would see the raw eyes and use it against her. She moved her plate over to the table beside the barred window and set to eating her food. Freshly peeled fruit from the gardens, soup, bread hot from the oven, a sausage dripping with grease. Iced milk and a strong, exotic beverage called coffee on the side. She ate just as well as the Queen, but she'd rather choke down gruel if she could just break fast with her family. 

Well, there was no helping that. 

Priscilla was in a good mood today, she could tell. At least, she seemed more playful than violent and abusive. She had been giggling and smiling the whole time—that was good. She had even praised her for smelling nice, and that was good too. Today would be a good day to get on her better side. However, her stomach felt a little queasy to think that today would be "exciting," and whatever that entailed. There was probably public humiliation in store for her, though that happened every few days anyhow.

She ate quickly and ate what she could. Priscilla had noticed when she started to lose weight, and she didn't like that. She ordered her to keep her body just as it was, and threatened to force feed her if she didn't. At the same time, she may get furious if Emilia kept her waiting too long. She didn't want to risk it, so she ate like she was working and brushed her teeth as ordered.

Then, what to wear? She hadn't told her to wear anything in particular, but she did call her chemise "slutty". She had a feeling that Priscilla actually liked her like that, though. Most likely, when it was time to hold court, she would make her change into exactly what she wanted anyway. She decided to simply pull on some of her white thigh-highs and a pair of soft slippers and made her way down the long, palatial hallway. 

The helmed knight was standing outside of Priscilla's massive doors. He scared her, at first—he was more like a suit of battle-scarred armor than a man, with only rare glimpses of eyes peering through the slit of his visor. In fact, he was probably the only person in the whole palace who treated her with a modicum of decency.

"Good morning, my Lady." 

"Good morning, Aldebaran," she replied, managing to smile for a bare moment. He was the only one to ever call her  _ Lady  _ anymore. 

He opened the door with a loud creak, and closed it behind her. Priscilla's room was a monument to luxury, all in scarlet and gold. She was lounging on her side upon the great canopy bed, dropping plump grapes into her mouth. She could practically hear the juices exploding with each bite from here. 

"Ah, slave." She clapped her hands once. "Come here." 

Emilia had to walk across the pelt of some great beast to stand at the bedside, hanging her head down.

Priscilla looked her up and down, licked her lips. "Mm, the signature Emilia stockings. Excellent choice, if I do say so..."

She reached out her toe and pressed it to Emilia's thigh. "For my little whore." She lifted up her foot so that she raised the hem of Emilia's skirt, exposing silky white panties. 

"The lingerie I bought for you looks so cute on you. You really are my little doll, hm?" 

Emilia was flushing red. She hated being leered at like this. "Y-Yes, your Grace. I'm glad you think so." 

Priscilla smirked—she could see the embarrassment written on her face as clear as day. She sat upright and placed her palm to Emilia's pussy, with only the thin fabric of her panties between. 

She took delight in her shocked gasp. Her fingers probed up and down her slit, tracing the lips through the silk and feeling for the nub. Her other hand roamed up her thigh and hip to squeeze her ass, dipping under the skimpy panties, groping her like a child too rough with their pet. 

"How does that make you feel? Do you like it?" Her voice was honey-sweet, poisonous. 

"Aah—your G-Grace...!" She was trembling and whimpering, leaning her hands onto Priscilla's shoulders for support before she realized it. The Queen let it happen, slipping her hand under the panties and giving her slave's clit a few hard strokes before finally pulling away. She left behind a deep, damp stain in the silk, the mark of her shame.

"Would you look at how wet you are? I hardly had to touch you for you to start  _ dripping. _ " 

"I-I... but..." She was in tears now. 

"Aww, is my little poor baby sad because she didn't get to cum? Did I leave you all hot and bothered?" 

"I... I don't know, your Grace..." 

Priscilla pouted her lips like a puppy, mocking her. "Aww, don't cry, darling. If you're good, mommy will let you have all the fun you want tonight. But for now, get on your knees." 

She sank to the ground, tears welling up. Priscilla swung her legs over the bed. Emilia could catch the scent of her wet cunt. 

"Lick my feet." 

"...Yes, ma'am." 

It was far from the first time she had done it. The taste of her Queen's toes and pussy and ass had become something she was getting used to. She placed her palms on the floor and bent her head down to press the first kiss to Priscilla's big toe. She kissed each individual digit before licking between the toes, just like she had been taught. Then she worshipped the bottoms of her feet, licking from heel to ball while Priscilla stuck her hand between her legs and played with herself. 

"Mmhm, good girl, good girl..." 

Emilia had cleaned her thoroughly by the time her Queen came. "Look up," she ordered, and slid a pair of wet fingers redolent with cunt into her mouth. Emilia whimpered and hesitated at first, but licked that clean too.

Priscilla took a moment to take in the sight of her work—a teary eyed, red-faced girl, kneeling on the ground, drowning in her own shame. 

"You've never looked so beautiful." 

She left her there to go retrieve something. Emilia had an inkling of what it was. 

"We need to let them know who you belong to, you know. Hold still." 

She could feel Priscilla's presence looming behind her. The smell of her perfume and hair was full in the air as she knelt down and clasped and buckled the collar in place around her neck. Her fingers were still clumsy with such a basic and practical action—but she insisted on being hands-on with Emilia. 

"Up. Up." 

She pulled her up and dragged her in front of the long, gilded mirror where Priscilla did her makeup. Emilia could see herself pouting, the tears still drying on her face. Priscilla was standing behind her and grinning, clasping her on the arms.

"This time, I bought a purple one. It's the same color as your eyes—isn't it pretty? It really makes your eyes shine." 

She pulled her close, close enough to feel her heavy breasts press into her back, fingers on her jaw. "It cost a small fortune to dye it. You should be grateful." 

"I... Tha—" 

"God, I want to fuck you." Her tongue traced a line from the bottom of her neck up to her ear. Emilia could only wince and cry out a little. Her hands groped her breasts now, squeezing them hard and rough. 

"Do you realize how many men and women would like to get their hands on you? A half-elf reject with no rights, and uncommonly beautiful. But you're  _ all mine. _ They need to see that. Speaking of, did you know Crusch is coming today?" 

Emilia whimpered while Priscilla played with her studded nipple. To her shame and frustration, only a slight abrasion there would tingle and make her wet. "C-Crusch? Lady Karsten?" 

"Mmhm. That stuck-up bitch. I'm sure she's going to make a scene about something or the other. But she's going to see you, you know? I wonder how she'll feel when she sees her old ally sitting at my feet, collared like the little  _ pet _ she is."

_ You're so cruel... _

"Hm? Did you say something?" 

_ Haven't you humiliated me enough...? _

"...No, your Grace." 

"Mm.  _ Fuck _ if I'm not horny today." She broke away and flopped onto her bed, pulling off a pair of lacy black panties and tossing it aside. She laid back and spread her legs. "We have enough time for you to eat me out. If I don't cum at least twice before court, I think I'll go insane. Come here." 

Emilia did as she was told. 

\---------------

When it was time for court, Emilia sat as she always did—at the queen's feet, upon a silk cushion beside her throne. Her legs were tucked uncomfortably beneath her knees—Priscilla had taught her the way to "sit like a slave," by way of harsh words and a riding crop. She still wasn't fully used to it, and her legs often grew numb and stung—though not half as hard as the looks they gave her, the disgraced half-elf princess, leashed and collared and displayed before the court. The nobles and petitioners glared at her largely with hatred, occasionally with confusion and almost second-hand embarrassment, some with perhaps a hint of pity. Now she regretted wearing just her sleeping shirt, panties, and stockings—the Queen liked the look on her, and so she left her like that, practically in her underwear. 

The weight of those stares could bury her alive. 

"Oi." Priscilla tugged on her leash, rustling gilded chains. The queen leaned over on her armrest to speak with her.

"Your Grace?" 

"Be strong now," she said with a grin. "I can't have you breaking on me because of a little public humiliation. You're lucky I don't parade you naked, really." 

"Y-Yes, your Grace. You are exceedingly kind." 

She rolled her eyes. "You're so fake. It's only because the right to your body is mine and mine alone. Be quiet—it's about to get fun." 

The iron Duchess was entering now—Lady Crusch Karsten. For a moment, the eyes left Emilia to linger on that woman as she stamped down the red carpet of the cavernous, colonnaded royal hall, sword at her hip, all determination and righteous indignation in her navy-blue uniform. The knight Felix trailed but a few feet behind her, eyes darting suspiciously between the crowd, the guards, the Queen, and... 

She caught the exact moment when Crusch noticed her. Her harsh amber eyes froze, her lips parting as the recognition hit her—then she scowled even more bitterly than before.  _ So the rumors were true _ , her face seemed to say. Emilia couldn't bear it. She turned away and bit her lip in shame. 

"That's far enough," Priscilla declared, as Crusch and Felix paused some thirty feet away.

"...Queen Priscilla. In the spirit of politeness, I will say nothing of how you have kept us waiti—" 

"Stop, stop, stop—aren't you forgetting something, Duchess Karsten?" 

The proud Duchess grit her teeth, swallowed her anger, and lowered herself to one knee. Felix did the same. 

"I thank you for granting us this audience, your Grace." 

Priscilla crossed her leg and leaned on her palm, tapping her cheek and smirking, a portrait of smugness. "That's more like it. Treat your sovereign with some _ respect. _ You may rise."

"I have come here today to bring to your Grace's attention a number of grievances which have been raised against you since your succeeding the throne." 

"Oh, really? What grievances might those be?" 

Crusch sighed heavily. "I have a number to list, representing the concerns of the people and many of our Kingdom's most eminent lords." 

"Oh, so you speak for everyone now? You ex-candidate? Please continue." 

  
  


"Firstly... in the manner of foreign policy, you have thrown the laboriously constructed alliances and trade agreements of the previous regime to the wind. At the same time, you have formed new relations with strange bedfellows, such as the Union of the North Sea, an age-old adversary of ours." 

"The old King was a senile fool, who made Lagunica look weak. I am merely correcting his mistakes." 

Murmurs filled the great hall. It seemed there were as many who agreed as did not. Aldebaran had to pound the floor a couple times with a staff to get them to quiet down. 

"Second, you have instituted regressive and prejudiced policies towards demi-humans. Our nation is still healing from the wounds of that strife, yet you seek to agitate the old scars with a hot brand." 

"Don't you know your history? I recall that we won the demi-human war and stripped all such  _ halflings  _ of their rights." She tugged on the golden chain. "They should be grateful I don't enslave the lot of them." 

Crusch clenched her fists and stepped forward. "Do you even know what nons—" 

Felix placed a hand on her shoulder. They seemed to share a word, and Crusch composed herself. The Queen was giggling. 

"Third... you have struck down the morality and decency statutes of the past, and put the good name of the Capital to shame. I have even heard it compared to an open brothel!" 

"The past this, the past that. Are you really so afraid of change, Cruschie? I'm a reformer, just like you! And if you're so concerned with morality in the Capital, maybe I could put you in charge of that. I'll be the Queen of Lagunica, and you can become the Queen of Whores. I think that would fit you wonderfully." 

"H-How dare you?!" This time, it was Felix who erupted in rage. "Don't you ever talk about her like that!" His hand went to his sword, but Crusch clasped her hand over his. The guards lowered their spears. The hall was in an uproar. 

"Don't! She wants an excuse to kill us—!"

Priscilla was laughing uncontrollably, clutching her stomach. "I—I think the both of you should take the job jointly. You two would make a lovely attraction. We all know that Sir Felix is more than just your knight, after all." 

The two of them looked at one another and flushed hotly. Felix grit his teeth and darkened with a fury that she could tell was only barely containing itself beneath the surface. Crusch snapped, "That is but an unfounded and slanderous rumor! It is entirely irrelevant to this discussion!" 

The Queen had to wipe tears of laughter away. "Alright, alright. Put your spears down, everyone. What's your next point?" 

Crusch collected herself, but she too was simmering with anger.   
  
“I would be...  _ remiss  _ not to mention the ongoing crisis of the Margrave Mathers insurgency.”    
  
“ _ Former _ Margrave, Lady Karsten.  _ Former. _ He’s a vile rebel and traitor, and has been duly stripped of his domains and titles!”   
  
Emilia gasped and stiffened like a board.  _ Mathers?! Is she talking about Roswaal? _ _   
_ _   
_ Crusch seemed to notice Emilia’s reaction, or rather, she was already expecting it. Her eyes flitted and met hers as quickly as they looked away.    
  
“ _ Former _ Margrave, your Grace. Be that as it may, the threat he now poses is very real. After your seizure of Lady Emilia—” all eyes shifted towards her—”the Margrave has gone into hiding, and continues to reappear and launch attacks on the royal government at will. You have set loose perhaps one of the strongest magic users in the country and turned him to a rebel. I am also told that a surpassingly powerful mage known as Beatrice fled the Mathers domain with him and supports him in his guerilla assaults. How do you plan to rectify this issue that continues to destabilize our country?”   
  
“Tch!” Amusement gave way to indignation. “Do you really think I’ve just been ignoring all this? I’ve tasked the Royal Army and even the Black Hands with finding him and bringing me his head. The little witch too. Every time he crawls out of his little rat hole to do one of his little stunts, he exposes himself. It’s only a matter of time before he’s dealt with. The Black Hands will rip that creepy old clown to pieces, I promise you.”   
  
“I fear it won’t be so simple, your Grace. Lord Mathers had friends in many places. Perhaps that is why he continues to elude you. And yet you have still elected not to dispatch Sir Reinhard. Instead, you have made the bizarre choice to reinstate the King’s Black Hands, a disgraced order associated with the tyranny of King Garar—”   
  
“Do not presume to lecture my choice of knights!” Priscilla’s voice rose almost to a shriek. “Sir Reinhard will remain in the capital until I say otherwise! And if that traitor has any friends left, my Hands will find them and root them out! Those who would abet traitors will reap a traitor’s death!”   
  
Crusch wouldn’t back down in the face of the Queen’s rage. “This traitor may very well become a symbol of resistance to those who would wish your regime ill. Now is as fit a time as any to mention the most pressing issue,  _ your Grace... _ you have been working to destroy the precious peace between the aristocracy and the people! The delicate balance which has been built up for generations is already threatening to come apart. You have given far too much power to the ruling class! At this rate... you are stoking the flames of civil war and insurrection!" 

"Haah?! Are you threatening me, Crusch Karsten?!" 

"I am stating the truth. If you continue to destabilize this Kingdom, only strife and disaster awaits us." 

"And you yourself shall take up arms against me, hm? Is that it? Shall I name you a traitor here and now?" 

"Tch! As long as I live, I shall never betray Lagunica. House Karsten will do whatever is necessary to protect this Kingdom and the integrity of the Crown." 

"You haughty... Very well then, Duchess. If you truly will protect your Kingdom, then if this so-called "insurrection" arises, I will task  _ you _ personally with slaughtering every last one of those filthy peasants." 

"I'll keep my sword sharp, your Grace. I take my leave." 

She touched her knee to the ground for a bare instant before wheeling around and departing. For a moment, she threw a glance back towards Emilia—pity, perhaps, or was it disgust? She couldn't know.

She looked up at the Queen and flinched when she saw the anger written across her face. 

"Slave!" She snapped. "Pour me some wine." 

\---------------

Priscilla was on top of her again. 

The bedroom smelled of incense, perfume, wine, skin, sweat, and pussy. Priscilla's body glowed dimly red from the candlelight, lending her a devilish air. Her forehead glimmered with sweat, parting her lips in a moan. One thick thigh was wedged between Emilia's legs as the Queen ground her swollen lips back and forth. Little gasps and lewd noises filled the room. 

_ I have to keep her happy. _

"D-Does that feel good?" Emilia asked. 

"Mm, stay still... just stay still..."

She unsteadily raised her hands to touch Priscilla's heaving breasts, gently holding them and rubbing the hard nipples. 

"D-Does that?"

Priscilla just grunted. She didn't tell her to stop, just ground herself out on the girl’s thigh until she came. 

"You're an eager little slut, aren't you?" She grabbed Emilia's wrists and pinned them down to the bed before taking the girl's nipple into her mouth. She cried out when she felt Priscilla's teeth nibbling, pinching her flesh between tooth and gilded piercing. 

"Ow—ow! P-Please, please don't be so rough!" 

She lifted up her head, a strand of saliva parting in the air from her mouth and the abused tit. "Not so rough?"

She nodded with tears in her eyes, scared that she had made a mistake. 

"Fine." Priscilla locked lips with hers.

She kissed her like she was sucking her dry, but it was the only scrap of tenderness she had felt in weeks, so she welcomed it. Usually, Priscilla hardly deigned to kiss her, so it took her by surprise. Greed and aggression gave way to softer, lighter kisses, almost like the ones she shared with Ram. When she shut her eyes, she could almost pretend it was her... 

Her thoughts were interrupted when the Queen snaked a hand down to palm Emilia's tight, wet pussy. She slipped a finger in and thumbed her clit, drawing out a high whimper. 

"You're gonna cum for me," she said. She fucked her for a bit with her hand before moving down the bed and burying her head between her slave's trembling thighs.

"And I'm gonna teach you—" she gave a long lick up her slit, "a thing or two about eating pussy too." 

\---------------

Priscilla laid sprawled on the bed like a nude portrait, fanning herself. Sweat shined on her forehead, breasts, belly, and thighs. There was a marked plumpness to her figure that Emilia had noticed recently—she often saw her snacking on the most delectable fruits, sweets, and wine after all. Becoming Queen had made her more indulgent.

Emilia faced away from her on her side, blanket pulled up to her chest. 

"Don't look away from me," she said. "Maybe I want to talk to you." 

Emilia rolled over obediently. Her body was sore, though less than usual. Her vulva felt the most sensitive, after Priscilla's fingers and tongue had drawn out orgasm after orgasm from her. She managed her best smile. "Please tell me, your Grace." 

"Hey!" She snapped her fan at her. "Don't call me that in here." 

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't realize. What should I...?" 

"Just... ma'am. No," she sighed. "Priscilla." 

_ She wants me to use her name...? _

"Alright... Priscilla." 

She seemed to blush for a moment before covering her face with her fan. 

"Hmph. Well. What a stuck-up bitch that Crusch is! She'd collapse onto the floor if someone pulled that stick out of her ass." 

"Does... she have a stick up there?" 

Priscilla looked at her. "It's an expression. Are you dumb?" 

She flinched. "...I'm sorry." 

"God, you're a scared little puppy. I really just wanna humiliate that bitch. Did you hear what I said about her and her little boytoy?"

"Um, a-about how they would make an... attraction? And they like each other...?" 

"Mm. It's a total lie. I cooked that up to slander her camp during the selection. It worked pretty well, don't you think? So well, I really think there might be some truth to it. Ha! I'd like to strip the two of them naked before the whole city, and show everyone just the kind of freaks they are." 

Emilia laid there and quietly listened to every coarse, abusive word. 

"Did you hear when that cunt threatened me? She threatened me! There's going to be a revolt because she doesn't like  _ my _ policies. She said it like she'd lead it herself! She’s lucky I didn’t have her killed!”   
  
Her rage seemed to only build with each word, as did Emilia’s apprehension and discomfort. She knew that Priscilla might hurt her if she got too angry. She didn’t want that to happen again. Her butt and the back of her thighs were already sore from the punishment she had got earlier today after court was dismissed. Considering how furious she had been, she was lucky that she hadn’t got it even worse.    
  
“I-I think it was… good of you, to let her go unmolested… it showed that you were willing to hear your subjects’ grievances… “   
  
Priscilla looked at her, narrowed her eyes, and darkly laughed. She scooted close to her and seized her chin between thumb and forefinger. “Do you seriously think that I need validation from  _ you? _ The slave who lost the royal selection?” She was laughing, breath hot on her face. “You know, I actually think that’s kind of cute. You’re a sweet girl, truly.”   
  
Even when she acted sweet, the mocking poison she covered her words in made Emilia’s eyes fill up with tears.    
  
“Aw, did I hurt your feelings? I’m sorry.” She wiped her thumb under the girl’s eyes, sifted through her silver hair. Resting her head on the pillow, she studied her quietly for a bit, continuing to idly stroke her cheek and temple while Emilia sniffled. It almost felt nice.    
  
“I used to wish I was as pretty as you,” she said.   
  


“...What?”   
  
“When we were kids."

Vague memories, some eight or nine years past, flashed distantly before Emilia as through a cloudy lens. A castle, with bright bleached walls. A grand meeting—Roswaal was with her. She was small. Were the twins with her then? No, it was before they had come. The girls, the daughters of the nobles, had looked at her with suspicion at first—but the one with forest green hair broke away to speak with her. She had made friends that day, but some of those girls' eyes had remained hard and bitter, like a certain girl, with fire in her hair and eyes the color of blood. 

Those same eyes were staring at her now.

"...Forget it." Her hand dropped away from Emilia's chin. She laid back on her pillow and stared up at the ceiling. "Rub my feet. They get so sore, carrying the weight of the Kingdom around." 

She obediently moved to the end of the bed where the Queen was resting her feet. She gently took one beautiful foot in hand.  _ At least she seems calmer now. Maybe…  _

"Don't be too  _ rough _ now. I hope you know by now how I like it." 

_ You've drilled it into me enough.  _ "Yes, your Gra… Priscilla." 

She knew that her mistress didn't like it when she made the mistake of "kneading my feet like a fucking piece of dough," so being gentle was the best course. She wasn't experienced with this kind of thing at all, really—in fact, Ram and Rem used to massage her, but that was it, and it all felt lovely to Emilia. She settled for gently running her hands over the smooth bottoms of Priscilla's feet and only lightly squeezing her toes. Each little hum of pleasure she made was like a breath of relief for Emilia.  _ This is going about as well as I can hope for. But I need to be even better…  _

Hesitantly, her tongue traced a path up her sole. She heard Priscilla gasp. "S-Smart girl."

With that as her sign of her encouragement, she made a display of obedience all over her mistress' feet, in worshipful licks and kisses. It was so much better to please her like this than by punishment or humiliation. It felt normal now. When she saw Priscilla massaging her own pussy lips, playing with her nipple and sighing, she grew bolder and gently placed her hands on the Queen's inner thighs. She lowered her face to her pink vulva, slow enough that Priscilla could stop her if she didn't want it. 

Instead, she pulled her in. While she gave her her pleasure, the Queen caressed her cheek and hair, sighing in approval as she tossed her head back and forth on the pillows and wriggled her toes. When she was done, Emilia's lips were wet and shiny with cum. Priscilla laid on the bed limp, drunk, and sated in the afterglow, a smile on her face.  _ This is perfect.  _

Emilia laid down close beside her. "Would you like the blanket?"

"Mmhm," she muttered. "Just the light one." She was tired and comfortable. Emilia pulled a thin, feather-soft blanket over the two of them and rested her head by Priscilla's ear. 

Now she had to be brave. 

"Lady Priscilla… may I ask you something?" Her voice was small. 

"Hmm? What'd you say?" 

"If it's not too much trouble, I wanted to talk to your Grace about something…" 

"Tch." Her brows furrowed in annoyance. "What is it?"

"I…" 

Where should she even start? A meeting with Rem, Ram, or Subaru had been her most urgent thought for weeks now. But things had changed with court today—she had learned that Roswaal and Betty were wanted fugitives. When she was alone afterwards, she hadn't been sure whether to cry with relief or sorrow. Roswaal, the man who had been like a father to her, and steady aunt Beatrice, weren't dead as she had feared—and yet they very well might be, any day now. Their fates had been a mystery to her, ever since that day when the Queen's men had seized her in the capital. No one ever told her anything here—certainly not the serving ladies. She might have even used this moment to ask Priscilla about Roswaal, but thanks to Crusch, she had already gained that information.  _ So what should I…? _

"Spit it out already, god." 

"S-Sorry! Um, I wanted to ask you about…" 

She hesitantly laid a hand on top of Priscilla's. "...About—about what happened to my friends. When you arrested me, I remember that Rem, Ram, and Subaru were taken too…" 

"Haah? Oh, the demon twins and the idiot. Yes, they're in the dungeons." 

That took the breath out of her. Mixed relief and terror hit her like a chilly wave. "T-The dungeons…? Gods, are they alright? Please tell me they're alright!" 

Priscilla slapped her hand away and wrenched her by the ear. "Hey! Remember your place! Don't you dare get that tone with me!" 

Emilia threw her head down onto Priscilla's lap. "I'm sorry, your Grace, I'm sorry… please forgive me! I just… please, please tell me…! I beg you!" 

Priscilla looked down at the pleading, crying girl. She was taken aback by the gesture, how close and intimate it was as Emilia practically clutched her thigh. Disgust, fascination, arousal—pity? She couldn't quite pin down what she was feeling. 

"Tch… you're… the nerve of you. Since when did we… nevermind. You want to know how they are?" 

"Please, your Grace… I'll serve you to the day I die, just please…" 

"Stupid. You're already going to do that." She laid her hand on Emilia's face. "Fine. They're fine. Last I heard, they were safe and sound in their cells." 

Emilia let out a sigh like the weight of the world had been lifted off her. 

"Of course, I…" 

Priscilla paused. 

_ I had the twins tortured for Roswaal's whereabouts, of course. _

She was going to say it—part of her wanted to see her face twist in pain, tormented with the knowledge of their treatment. It was obvious how important those three were to her. But when she saw her down there at her thigh, relief on her face, eyes looking up at her with such deep gratitude… something shifted in her. She sighed. 

"Is that all…? They're really fine?" 

"Yes, I told you already. They're fine."  _ Besides a couple of scourged backs.  _

"Oh, thank the gods, thank the gods…" Emilia clasped her hands together and cried happy tears, a naked penitent before her eyes. And yet, she was so pure and white that it seemed like sin could never have even touched her. 

"Tch, don't thank the gods." Priscilla pulled Emilia on top of her. "Thank me." 

For the first time in weeks, she smiled from the bottom of her heart. "Thank you!" 

Their lips melted together. They fucked one last time before bed, as a foreign thing called guilt intoxicated Priscilla for the first time. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emilia's degradation continues, Priscilla is confused, and a new party joins.

She woke up with the girl beside her again.    
  
Emilia seemed peaceful. The bright morning light slanting in through the windows lit her up like an angel, shining off her skin and snow white hair apart from where thin bars of shadow criss-crossed her face. She laid on her back, head turned towards Priscilla, with her hands drawn up over her chest almost as if to hug herself. The both of them were naked under the covers, of course. Priscilla wouldn’t abide for Emilia to hold any secrets from her.    
  
It made her annoyed to study her face. “You think you’re some kind of angel,” she muttered. At that moment, she noticed a twitch in Emilia’s face. The girl’s peaceful, undisturbed expression turned to a wince. She even began to make the tiniest whimpers in her sleep.    
  
“Oh, bad dream, is it?” Priscilla grinned. She slowly shifted from her position on her belly (she always fell asleep in the most haphazard positions, often taking up as much space as possible and inevitably pushing her feet into Emilia’s) so as not to wake the girl. She got close, leaning on her elbow and smirking down on her pained face. “I wonder what you’re thinking of, hmm.” She idly stroked Emilia’s cheek with her fingers. “With some magic, it wouldn’t be too hard to pry into your dreams.”  _ Or even give you nightmares.  _   
  
That thought almost made her shiver. She felt a tingle between her legs, just thinking of how evil that would be. She put a finger to her mouth in contemplation.  _ But… no. It wouldn’t be as satisfying when I’d have to have someone else perform the magic. I think...  _   
  
She looked down on her pet, ran a hand softly through her bangs.  _ I can break her mind all the same. _

Then, Emilia woke up. Her eyes were wide, full of fear. They flitted around the room in disorientation, but locked on Priscilla, looming above her. The Queen could see her anxiety, the desperate need for someone to comfort her. A fascinating moment of hesitation and confusion passed over her as she was confronted with the face of both her tormentor and the only person who shared any intimacy with her any more. With a trembling hand, she reached out and clasped Priscilla’s hand and leant her head in towards her bust, like a hurt puppy craving love.    
  
Priscilla hesitated. On one hand, she felt a certain tenderness for her pretty little slavegirl. She felt warm and soft—she was tempted to hold her tight against her breasts, stroke her hair, even praise her, perhaps. Of course, it was only to build the girl’s dependence on her. Each act of kindness interspersed between cruelty would only wrap her pet tighter and tighter around her finger. But at the same time, something told her that giving in to her own desire to kiss her slave’s wounds (so to speak) would be like surrendering some of her own power—as if it might blur the line between the carefully cultivated roles of master and slave. Her pet had been getting too comfortable with her, and perhaps she was getting too comfortable with her pet.  _ I should remind her just what kind of relationship this is. I need to be crueler. _

She slapped Emilia’s hand away, and followed with a quick slap to her face. The girl recoiled with an expression of shock and hurt that made Priscilla’s morning. “Just cause you share my bed, doesn’t mean I’m your lover. What’s gotten into you?”    
  
“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t…” Her eyes started to well up. “I just-- I had a bad…”    
  
“Bad dream? Aw, you gonna cry about it?”   
  
Emilia choked down a sob, and something snapped in her. She turned towards Priscilla and cried out, “Why are you so cruel to me?!”    
  
Both of their eyes widened at once, mutually surprised at what she had dared to do. The fear passed over Emilia’s face right as Priscilla grabbed her throat and wrenched her onto her backside. She raised her free hand, but stopped just short of landing a brutal slap.  _ Don't hurt her face,  _ she reminded herself. Instead, she tightened the grip on her throat, as the girl squirmed underneath her and whimpered in pain. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she repeated through the short, choked breaths she could manage. 

Priscilla released the choke with a look of disgust. Emilia coughed as her mistress went to retrieve something. She yanked open a nearby drawer and came back with a sleek black paddle of polished ebony. 

"Raising your voice against me—I thought I had taught you better by now!" 

Emilia apologized desperately through tears, but even she knew that Priscilla wouldn't be satisfied until she had punished her now. She seized the naked slave and easily dragged her onto her lap. The queen had a touch of the enhanced strength that naturally came from being a magic user, and to Emilia, whose abilities had been completely blocked off by the curse, resisting her would have been utterly helpless. She felt as weak as a child as Priscilla wrenched one arm behind her, clasping her wrist and bending it across her lower back, where the curse seal sprawled over her skin in twisting, evil spirals. With her free hand, she swung the paddle down in an arc that collided with her slave's ass. 

"You earned this," Priscilla spat. The paddle landed again. 

"I knew you were a bad girl! You put on that pure, obedient act, but it's a  _ lie _ ." Again, then again. 

"Your nature is vile!" Her ass was pink. 

"You'll always be a  _ half-elf _ ." 

That last word stung more than every blow. Emilia endured it all with quiet sobs and grunts. The punishment only lasted about a minute, but Priscilla's paddling had been intense. Her poor ass had started to welt up and turned a bright pink with spots of red where the blows had overlapped. The queen was breathless from her effort. 

"At least you turn such a nice color. That smooth white skin swells up so fast." She ran her hand over Emilia's ass, over the poor, abused tissue. Her ass wasn't big and slappable and fat as Priscilla's, but it was cute, small and well-formed, appealing in her own way. Seeing it flush up and color whenever she punished her sent a thrill through her body right to her pussy. Her fingers wandered down between Emilia's thighs to roam over her tight slit and bare lips. She could feel the girl's body twitch slightly underneath her at the touch. 

"Dry, huh? Wait—is this just the faintest hint of moisture?" She insistently rubbed the girl's pussy up and down, massaging her folds in just the way that her body couldn't help but betray her as her lips started to swell up and get wet. Her finger teased at her entrance, about to slip in before she pulled away. The next thing Emilia felt was the wood pressing against her vulva. 

She instantly wheeled her head around with a gasp and saw Priscilla smirking as she wedged the flat of the paddle in between her thighs. 

"Should I hit you here? How would you like that?" 

"P-Please don't!" She whimpered. "Please…" 

She stroked her pussy with the paddle up and down, a huge grin on her face. "Are you going to mind your manners from now on?" 

"Yes, yes…" she cried. "Please don't punish me more, your Grace…"

She yelped and shuddered when Priscilla brought the paddle down on her cheek. " _ Priscilla _ . Call me  _ Priscilla _ in this room, you stupid slave!" The Queen was intentionally inconsistent about which name or title she preferred, simply to keep her on edge. 

"Priscilla! Please don't—" 

"I'm done hearing you beg and cry and plead." She shoved Emilia off of her. "At least for now. You should thank me I left you off so lightly." 

"Y-Yes, thank you Priscilla," she stuttered, kissing the Queen's hand. She allowed her to do it as she wore a look of disgust. She proceeded to ring a certain bell on the nearby bedstand. 

"Get your clothes," she curtly ordered, but it was entirely too late as Aldebaran opened up the palatial door not ten seconds later. Emilia quickly covered her breasts in shame. 

"Aldebaran. Tell them to prepare my bath. I want Mor and Alys to attend me. And get the cleaning ladies to cleanse this half-elf wretch, I can't even stand the sight of her right now." She almost felt bad when she saw how much that seemed to hurt Emilia. Almost. "And tell them to be  _ thorough _ . I want every inch of her clean. But no breaking her cherry, unless they want their hand cut off. Oh, and some ointment for her ass. I'm feeling generous." 

"...Understood." The helmed knight bowed his head, pretending as if he didn't even see Emilia. He was about to leave, when he said, "Also, may I remind you that you have a certain appointment in the afternoon?" 

She waved her hand. "Yes, yes, whatever." She couldn't remember who it was with right now, but she didn't care. Being Queen kept her horribly busy. "I'll see them then. I want my bath now." 

"Alright," he said, with a hint of weariness, as if there was something important to say, but Priscilla clearly didn't want to hear it right now. He took his leave.

"Hmph. I'm sure Al feels bad for you. But he'll never lift a finger to help you, you know."

Emilia collected her clothing from the floor, sullen, tearstained, and withdrawn, holding crumpled underclothes to her chest. Her morning couldn't have started any worse. "...Yes, Priscilla." 

"I'll be seeing you later. And you better eat all your meals," she said menacingly. "Oh, and…" she placed her hand on her own chin. "I might give some thought to your  _ request. _ But only if you be a good girl from now on." 

That changed Emilia's entire demeanor. A glimmer of hope shone on the pit of sullenness that was her face, though the remark came so unexpectedly that Priscilla could tell how confused it made her.  _ Good. The more disoriented she is, the better. She'll never know when to expect the barbs or the kisses. _

"I-I… thank you, Priscilla…!" She immediately fell to her knees, dropped her clothes, and kissed the Queen's feet. At that moment, the bedroom door swung open as some serving ladies arrived to take her away, along with Priscilla's own nubile young handmaidens. Her body jerked in a horror of embarrassment. 

"Get your clothes on, unless you want them to march you through the halls naked," she laughed. The rest of them laughed at her too, apart from the knight. Priscilla watched her cheeks redden with amusement.

\---------------

Priscilla leaned back into her handmaid's arms with a low moan of pleasure. The room was hot and full of steam oozing off the stone walls and bath. The water had drained to just a couple inches depth, but the showerhead above continued to patter her with hot water. Her handmaids had rubbed her down first with scented oils that soothed her muscles and lent a bright shine to her skin, then with soap that left her plump body covered with suds. Her legs were spread wide as she sat on the tub's marbled floor, with Mor's face buried between her legs and Alys supporting her from behind, one hand on her breast and the other stroking her clit in circles as Mor massaged her achingly sensitive vulva with deft tongue and fingers. She had already climaxed twice, and approached her third with an almost guttural groan, leaning her head back onto Alys' shoulder and exhaling "Gods…!" 

"Are we to your liking, your Grace?" Alys whispered in her ear as her fingertip circled her clit. 

"Gods, if my slave could pleasure me half as well as you two…." 

Her sentence trailed off into a moan. Her toes curled and her walls tightened up around her servant's fingers as her orgasm ran through her with a shudder. Her girls made sure to finish her hard, Mor fucking her with rapid pumps of her fingers and Alys' frenetic circles pushing her over the edge into a climax that spread through her loins like a fire. She slid down Alys' body a little, almost passing out. The climaxes, the hot, moist air, the tender caresses of her servants, all combined for an almost hypnotic effect. Mor soothed her with licks and kisses to her vulva as she came down, so gentle and light she could cry. 

"You mentioned your slave, my lady?" Alys said softly. She was tall and slender and fair-skinned, with golden hair and freckles and a soft smile. 

"You need not summon that Witch's spawn, my lady," Mor added. "Let your handmaids give you all the pleasure in the world." Mor was short, but built with wide hips, full breasts, thick, powerful legs, and a muscled ass that arched behind her when she bent low to worship Priscilla's cunt. Her hair was the distinctive purplish-red that marked her as a southlander, contrasting beautifully against her white skin. 

They were both former slaves themselves, purchased from one of the most famed pleasure-houses in the world, where they spent years training the girls in the art of love. Alys and Mor, chosen for their looks and skills, had been specially raised to pleasure highborn women like her. They had never even known a man. That pleased her, just like it pleased her to know that Emilia's cunt was strictly for her. 

"Perhaps we could teach her, my lady?" Alys offered. "I would take it upon myself to show her the many pleasures of a woman's body, if it please your Grace." 

Priscilla slumped against Alys, winking in and out of sleep. "Hmm... I might have to." An image passed through her mind of Emilia, trapped between her two handmaids, trying her best to eat Mor out and a serene Alys swatting her ass and pussy with a leather crop at every mistake. It brought a smile to her face.  _ I wouldn't mind watching that. But…  _ She frowned pensively. "...See, I feel like I'm losing if I don't do it myself." 

Mor lifted her head up from her pussy. "That abomination is blessed beyond belief to receive your guidance, my lady! If she fails to learn, then it is her fault, not yours."

"Tsk. Don't call her an abomination, Mor."

The three of them all went quiet for a moment. Her face grew hot. 

  
“A-Ah, I only meant that…”   
  
“Perhaps... you grow fonder of her, my lady?”   
  
“N-No. It’s just that… I prefer not to hear her called such an ugly word. My slave is… more beautiful than that." 

Alys smiled and ran her hands through Priscilla's hair the way she liked. "She may be a silver elf, but all I see when I look upon her is a pretty girl." 

Mor's eyes remained hard. "If my Queen wills it, I will call the half-elf whatever she desires, and even take her into my bed. Just say the word, your Grace." 

"It is the same for me, your Grace."

"...I'll think about it." She sighed. Her mind began to wander.  _ That girl is making my mind a mess. Do I really feel a certain fondness for her? Nonsense. But then…  _

Her thoughts returned to that moment when she had held back the fact that Emilia's precious maids had been tortured. She hadn't bothered to inquire what the extent of it was—all that mattered was that no intel regarding Mathers' potential whereabouts had been got off them, and since then they had been left alone in their cells. It would have tortured Emilia to know that—and for some reason, Priscilla felt it best to keep it from her.  _ So I can hold it for later? A card I can play whenever I want.  _ That was true enough, but that wasn't the real explanation.  _ Did I just want her to have her moment of joy?  _

"My lady? You seem deep in thought," Alys said.

"Oh… oh, it's nothing. A Queen has many things on her mind." 

"Your hard work is an inspiration to us all," she said. 

"It's true, my lady," Mor said. "May we move you onto your side?" 

"Hm? Oh, yes." Priscilla shifted from her slumped position to lie on her side, with her head cradled in Alys’ lap. The position had the effect of giving Mor full access to her ass. She spread apart her cheeks and began to gently lick her pink anus. The girls could tell how sensitive her vulva and swollen clit were after her repeated orgasms—but her asshole had been yet untouched, except for when they rubbed it down with soap. Mor's hot tongue playing around there drew out another one of those low groans of toe-curling pleasure. "Gods, I cannot  _ believe  _ how good that feels…" 

Her thoughts drifted again as she laid there, this time to the request Emilia had made of her. Her pleading voice replayed in her head. 

_ "They're like family to me, your Grace…"  _

_ "If I could just talk to them, I would be in your debt forever…"  _

She clicked her tongue and scowled.

"Is something the matter, my Lady?"

"No, I was just thinking. Keep doing what you're doing." 

_ She wants to see the members of her old household. Hmph. I wonder what she'll think when she sees them. If they only whipped their backs… perhaps the damage won't be as visible. But why am I even bothering to think about that…?  _

Her servant's tongue was practically in her ass now. Even under the steady stream of shower water, she could feel how wet and swollen her cunt was from each probing and teasing lick. Her face tensed up and contorted almost as if she was in pain, but the pleasure slaves knew her body well, and could read exactly how much she was enjoying it, and when she wasn't. 

_ What I should consider is whether I should allow it in the first place. What if they somehow made plans for escape? We'd keep them tightly watched, of course, but who knows what they might be able to do? And more importantly…  _

_...what has she done to deserve it? _

"Oh Gods. I'm going to cum," she said. Mor slipped a hand between her thighs and ever so lightly stroked her mistress' vulva, with a teasing touch of her fingertip on the hood of her clit. With the diligent tongue in her ass, it was all the stimulation she needed to send her over the edge again. Alys held her hand and rubbed her hair as she rode it out. 

"Alright... I think that's enough sex." She said with a heavy, satisfied sigh. By the time they were done pleasuring her, they needed to soap up the sweatiest and hottest parts of her body one last time before finally stepping out. 

\---------------

Breakfast, or more like lunch given the time of day, flew by. As she was eating, Aldebaran had told her something interesting— _ very _ interesting. 

_ "My lady. You are aware of your guest today, correct?"  _

_ She put a piece of cheese in her mouth, before swigging it down with wine. "Someone dreadfully boring, I'm sure. Who is it?"  _

_ "Not at all, my lady. The guest is one of your very own Queen's Black Hands, Lady Elsa Granhiert."  _

She had nearly spat out her wine. She hadn't seen Elsa since several weeks had gone by, when she had affixed the curse seal onto Emilia's back. Since then, Priscilla had dispatched her into the field, to search for that Mathers swine. It had completely slipped her mind that she was scheduled to report to her today. And if she had her way, as the Queen always did, then Elsa would be doing far more than just reporting to her.

_ Gods. What a woman she is.  _ She rubbed her thighs together.  _ The way she makes me all hot and bothered… _

She had to fan herself. Her thoughts traveled to new places, her smirk only growing more sinister.  _ Oh, this day is going to be wonderful. _

Elsa was to report to her around 3 o'clock. She had Emilia summoned to her solar shortly before then, where she waited in her cushioned, high-backed chair. When the girl arrived, she looked meek and frightened as a doe, with her head bowed down and her hands clasped awkwardly in front of her. She was wearing her shoulderless pink silk dress, with white thigh-highs, soft as sin. A white rose in her hair. Priscilla mostly let her wear her own clothes, if only because it excited her. 

"You look beautiful," Priscilla told her. 

Curiously, her voice lacked the usual poison. Emilia raised her head reluctantly. "Thank you, your Grace." 

"Come here," she said warmly. "Come." 

Emilia walked towards her, the fear and hesitation written all over her body language. The memory of the harsh treatment she had received that morning had not left her. 

"Calm down. I'm not going to hurt you," she said softly. She gently took Emilia's hand in hers and looked up at her, all fondness and warmth. She could see the confusion and wariness in the girl's eyes.  _ Good. _

"I was a bit unfair to you, this morning. I wanted to make up for it, actually…" She gently caressed the top of Emilia's hand, and even pulled it close to kiss the back. "You only sought comfort from me… it was cruel to punish you for that." 

Emilia's bewilderment was obvious. She looked torn. "I—I… no, I overstepped my boundaries, your Grace…" 

"Call me Priscilla," she said, kissing her hand with such tenderness it made her blush. "Come here," she said again, and this time pulled Emilia into her lap. 

"P-Priscilla…" she stuttered, flushing hotly. She hadn't expected this type of mood.

"How did they treat you?" She said with concern. "Were the serving ladies rough with you?"

"A-Ah, n-no, your Gr—Priscilla." 

"It's alright," she said, wrapping her arms around Emilia's waist. "You can talk to me." 

She looked at her uncertainly, as if she was on the verge of trusting her, but scared to death of being hurt again. "I-It was alright… really. They brushed my hair a little hard, but it was fine… t-they're scared of bruising me, for fear of making you angry…" 

"Well they should be, shouldn't they? I don't want anyone else to mistreat you."  _ Besides me, and maybe one other. _ "Did they take care of your…?" 

Emilia gasped lightly as Priscilla's fingers ghosted along the side of her thigh and lifted up her dress. She whimpered and blushed crimson while Priscilla took a look at her behind, to inspect if the swelling from her paddling had gone down. Priscilla found that it had—her cheeks were a benign baby pink with a strip of white silk running between. The sight made her lick her lips. 

"It looks like the ointment worked well. Good." She ran her fingers over the sensitive skin and watched Emilia's back stiffen, heard her whimper at the touch. 

"So  _ sensitive.  _ I don't know if I've realized how ticklish you are!" She giggled. Her hands mischievously traveled up Emilia's back, past the curse seal and up to her shoulder blades, gently tapping her fingertips. The girl whined in distress and even teared up. The touch was so intimate that it horribly embarrassed her. Priscilla chuckled softly and withdrew her hands from her back, only for one palm to slide around to her bare belly. 

"Gods, you're just like a doll, aren't you? You're so pretty it almost makes me angry." 

Emilia looked back in fear. 

"Oh no, no, but I'm not angry now. Not at all. Oh, but one more thing…" 

Her hand slipped down to the hem of her panties. "Did they shave you? You felt a little stubbly this morning." 

"Y-Yes, my Lady…" 

Her warm hand pressed to her mound, found it smooth and bare. "I can see they did. Good," she whispered, kissing her nape with tenderness while Emilia flushed hot and sat there in shame. The tips of Priscilla's fingers extended just far enough to hover over the hood of her clit, which she rubbed ever so lightly and slowly as she continued to sniff and inspect her. Priscilla took no small amount of pleasure at touching Emilia's most private area, her "pretty little cunt"—whenever she pleased, and watching the mixed shame, discomfort, embarrassment, and pleasure pass over her face was half of the fun. Emilia was facing away from her now, but that was alright—she could see it all the same, knew it was there. And Emilia had nowhere to run but here, into Priscilla's embrace. 

She finally lowered Emilia's dress—fingertips shiny with a kiss of moisture—only for her hands to travel up her body, pass over her breasts, and study her snow-white hair in the light. Emilia soon broke the silence, probably to distract herself somewhat from the degradation of being inspected. 

"P-Priscilla…?" 

"Hm? What is it?" 

"If I may be so bold… did something happen to cause your… kind and generous mood? O-Of course, I'm very grateful to receive your affection—" 

"It's quite alright." She pulled Emilia snug against her. "In fact, something did happen. A new guest is coming today, and I'm very very excited to see her."

"A new guest…?" 

"Mhm. She's going to bring us exciting news, hopefully. And the three of us are going to have  _ so much fun  _ together." 

She could tell, with amusement, how that unsettled Emilia. She just hugged her tighter. 

"Don't be scared. I'll take care of you," she whispered. "And if you're a good girl… well, I may just let you see your precious family." 

Emilia turned around at that. "R-Really?" she blurted out. 

"Of course. But remember—" she traced a finger up from her chest to her chin— "that all depends on you." 

"Y-Yes! I'll be good for you… " There was a moment of hesitation, then she placed her hands on Priscilla's face. She glanced warily into her eyes, saw it was alright, and leaned in to kiss her Queen. Priscilla kissed her back with confidence. _ That's right… grovel, and do your best to please me. Be my whore.  _ Her hands were on Emilia's sides, then one fondling beneath her skirt, fingers running up and down her slit. She winced and nestled her face into Priscilla's shoulder, who kissed her deeply on the neck. She clung to her for support, weak and buckling from the caresses. She was hot and wet and dazed when Priscilla gently pushed her off. 

"As much as I want you, I think that's enough for now…" she pecked Emilia's cheek. "My guest is here. I need to talk to her. Be a good girl and go back to your room." 

"Yes, Priscilla… I will… patiently await your summons." She obediently kissed Priscilla's lips one last time, knelt, kissed her foot, and got up to part. When she was halfway to the door, it opened before her to admit the guest—and Priscilla could see the icy wave of fear crash over her pet's face. 

The woman came in like a thunderclap, draped all in black silk, her dress a sluttish thing that would make man and woman alike blush. Her clothing served entirely to accentuate the natural gifts of her body—most prominently, the full breasts that outclassed even Priscilla's own, but the wide hips, peach-like ass, and statuesque legs weren't to be overlooked either. A shawl of violet-colored fur adorned her shoulders, fur that could only have originated from a shadowbeast's hide, the terrors of the high north. Sensuous beauty and violent savagery—a contradiction that suited her well. Her skin was pale, with black hair in brilliant contrast, and violet eyes that shone darkly. An appearance as unforgettable as there was in the world. 

"Elsa… my Hand. It's so good to see you," she declared. 

"The pleasure is all mine, your Grace." 

Emilia staggered back a step, looked back and forth between the two. She looked much like a doe caught between two wolves.  _ Just the sort of reaction I hoped for.  _

It was Elsa who broke the tense silence, with an exclamation of fake surprise. "Oh! I haven't seen you in a while." She smiled at Emilia with all the affection of an old friend. 

The girl only backed away in terror, drawing her arms up to her chest. "P-Pris…" She stuttered, turning desperately towards her Queen—but she found no friend or ally in that openly amused smirk.

"Are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost." 

She froze up and started to say something, but the words choked in her mouth. The sinister smile on her master's face seemed to splash a bucket of cold reality over her face—that all the sweetness was a lie, and she had every intention of devouring every last piece of her. Her voice was thick and strained when she made herself bow before the dark lady and say, "P-Please excuse me, Lady Granhiert." 

"Of course. It's so good to see you again." Elsa stepped into Emilia's space swiftly, gently placing her fingers under her chin. "I trust you've been behaving for the Queen while I've been gone?"

"O-Of course…!" 

"Good," she said serenely. She released her before adding, "I'll see you later, I'm sure." 

Emilia left the den of wolves with a heart full of dread. 

\---------------

When she was summoned to Priscilla's chambers later that night, she resigned herself to what awaited her. The helmed knight seemed almost unsettled when he saw her—on account of the hollow look in her eyes, most like.  _ Not that that means you'll do anything, will you. _

The long hallway to Priscilla's room seemed snuffed of light and dim.  _ At least I had time to prepare myself. Maybe it'll be over quickly.  _

It was never a cause of celebration when Priscilla summoned her, but she had begun to get used to it by now—she knew what to expect. She liked to grope her and fuck her and shove her head down in between her legs, and maybe take her anger out on her with a flogger for a little bit. But it had been the Queen's evil companion, Elsa—the Dark Lady, the Bowel Hunter—who had showed Emilia what sadism was. In those first few days of captivity, when the reality still hadn't set in yet, the Queen had Elsa seal her mana off with curse magic—the most horrible pain she had felt in her life. Not only that, she had pierced her nipples, and used punishments worse than anything Priscilla had thrown at her since. Emilia's initial disobedience had been crushed then and there, at the end of Elsa's whip, and the horrible thing she had smeared between her legs that left her in agony for days. Thinking about that pain made her shudder. But she had been a good girl since then—she hoped against hope that Priscilla wouldn't let her do anything so cruel, but when she thought about that chilling smile, and all the violent, arbitrary behavior… 

_ All I can do is play my role and please her, no—the two of them. _

"Oh, about time!" Priscilla exclaimed, as the great doors creaked open. She was sprawled out on her bed in scarlet silk nightgown, with Elsa lying by her side in lacey black lingerie that exposed so much it could hardly be called underwear. They had both been drinking wine and kissing, it seemed. A black canvas sack had been placed beside the bed—containing, certainly, all of Elsa's toys and tools. The door closed behind her, and she was locked in. 

Elsa's lips were on hers before she had even made it to the bed. Her tongue tasted of smoke, wine, and malicious intent. Weeks ago, she would have recoiled—but her training kicked in. She closed her eyes, tilted her head, and gave in to it. All the warmth and fullness of her body was pressed against her as they stood there, hands on Emilia's hips, pulling her in. Somehow, it felt even more violating with her than Priscilla. Still, she made herself play the good girl—kissing her back, and awkwardly placing a hand on Elsa's hip. The woman seemed to take up the "challenge" so to speak, and only got more aggressive, pressing her tongue to Emilia's in a way that made her knees buckle and sliding her hand down under her shirt to touch her ass—but while Priscilla would grope and manhandle her, Elsa gently raked her nails over the skin of her ass. A shudder went up her body.

"Wow," Elsa said, finally pulling wet lips away and smiling warmly. "I'm impressed with you. You've been trained well, haven't you?" 

She found that she was breathless from the kiss, involuntarily clutching Elsa for support. "T-Thank you… Mistress Elsa." 

The woman clasped her hand and pulled her towards the bed, where Priscilla had been casually playing with herself as she watched. She wasn't wearing anything below her chemise, pussy bare, rubbing her clit with a smug smile as Elsa brought Emilia over. As soon as Emilia was up on the bed, she clasped her by the jaw. 

"You remember what we talked about, right?" she whispered. "You'll be good for me and Miss Elsa, won't you?" 

Emilia nodded, eyes frail and sad. "...Yes, Priscilla." 

"'Mistress' will do for tonight." Her grip softened to a caress on the cheek. "Don't you like the sound of that?" she said to Elsa. "Mistress Priscilla and Mistress Elsa." 

"That's wonderful," she replied, looming behind Emilia like a shadow and leaning in to press a kiss to the back of her neck. Every touch from her was vile—she could stand to be intimate with Priscilla, but not with her, not this murderess. But as Elsa's arms reached under hers and cupped her breasts, the Queen's eyes held her coolly, and she was reminded that she was trapped between two wolves. Then Priscilla's tongue was in her mouth as Elsa's was licking up her spine, the two of them fondling her like a toy. 

"I'd like to take a look at her," the dark woman said. "Particularly the seal." 

"By all means. I can't stand to see this whore in clothes."

Her fingers were already pulling apart the laces on the back of Emilia's clothing. Pure white silk and thigh-highs were slipped off and cast aside easily as her dignity. Once again, she was nude, lying flat on her belly between the two of them. 

"She's beautiful. Beautiful." 

"Isn't she?" 

"Lovely girl," Elsa whispered in her ear, pressing a palm to her slender back and running her finger all the way down to the vile, sprawling mark above her ass—like a spider with its twisted, jagged legs reaching up her lower back—Elsa's mark. 

"Is it still holding?" Priscilla asked. 

"Mm. It is." Her fingers traced along the dark lines. "She won't have any communion with spirits for a long time." 

The words twisted like a dagger.  _ Puck... _

"A long time?" The annoyance rose in her tone. "I don't want her to use magic ever again." 

"My strong suit really never was magic to begin with, you know. I'm decent enough with curses, but the seal will need to be strengthened every so often." 

"Can you do it now, then?" 

Panic shot through her. The pain she felt when Elsa first burned the seal into her skin as cold chains bit her wrists, was not something she was ever like to forget. 

"P-Please don't…!" The words came out before she could think. 

"Hah?" 

"Mistress!" She clutched Priscilla's knee and looked up at her. "Please don't, please don't let her hurt me again…!" 

Priscilla stared down at her in befuddlement. The girl's eyes were shining with tears, entreating her as if she was her savior. She had been met with abuse again and again, and yet here she was, begging her for mercy, for deliverance.  _ Is she so foolish that she still trusts me? Or is it that she has no choice?  _

Priscilla glanced at Elsa, who was regarding the slave girl with eyes cold as iron. It almost frightened her to know how cruel her own Hand could be.

"...Elsa. Will it be as painful as the first time?" 

"The seal? Hm. Not so bad as the first—but it will be a torture, all the same." 

She could see Emilia trembling. Her hands desperately sought out Priscilla's, kissing it and whispering pleas. 

She let out a heavy sigh. "Is there some way we could make it less painful? ...If she proves that she deserves it, of course." She felt Emilia go still. 

Elsa gave it a thought. "You could give her milk-of-the-poppy, I suppose. To dull her pain." 

"I see. Yes, that'd work. Before you leave the palace, then." 

"Very well." She stretched her palm out over Emilia's back. "I'm a little disappointed,to be hones—" 

"I don't care," she said, with slight annoyance. "The matter is settled. We have her all to ourselves, so let's enjoy it…" 

Elsa closed her eyes and smiled, conceding the matter to the Queen's discretion. "Of course." 

With that, she pressed a kiss to Emilia's tailbone, right above her exposed ass. 

"I can't take my eyes away from her. So fragile and beautiful, like a wisp of smoke… or stained glass," she said as she kissed up and down her rear. 

"You're awfully poetic for a murderer," the Queen replied, brushing her hand through Emilia's hair. She could watch each and every one of her pet's expressions from here. She looked distinctly uncomfortable, and evidently hated Elsa's touches more than anything. She glanced up at Priscilla with pouting, puppy-dog eyes—but her mistress just smiled down at her.  _ You won't get any more help from me. _

"You're mistaken, my Queen. I'm a murderer sanctioned by the Crown. A soldier, I suppose. Spread your legs, girl." 

Emilia knew she was being addressed. She spread her thighs apart, wide enough so she knew that Elsa could see everything she wanted. Sure enough, the next thing she felt was a cool finger tracing up her slit.

"This one might have the most pretty pussy I've seen."

"Of course. She's my personal plaything after all. And you're not a soldier. I knighted you, remember?"

"Oh dearie. What do you think knights are?" She said, leaning down and pressing the tip of her tongue to Emilia's asshole. That made her gasp and jerk her head up. She hadn't expected to be touched  _ there _ . 

"She's just as pretty here," she said between kisses and licks on her most private area. It tingled—it felt utterly strange and foreign—it felt violating. The woman gripped her cheeks and spread them apart to get full access, aggressively licking her rim. Emilia couldn't help but ball up the sheets in her palms. The woman was forcing her tongue inside her. She only stopped to say curtly, "don't tighten up." 

"You better listen to her," Priscilla said darkly, tightening a fist full of Emilia's hair. "And while you're here…" 

Priscilla shifted her fat ass over so that she sat right in front of Emilia, with her thick white thighs on either side of her face. "...why don't you make yourself useful?"

She lifted up her shirt and Emilia got a face full of her pussy. Her mound had a neat patch of red-orange pubes—same color as her hair—and her vulva was big, swollen and dripping, smelling strongly of her. Emilia had to shift position and get up on her knees to make it possible, with head buried between Priscilla's thighs, hand on the back of her head, and Elsa probing her ass at the same time. 

At least, she had something to focus on other than the invasive tongue, which was pushing deeper past her rim and making her all weak in the knees. It was too dark to see, smothered as she was, but Priscilla's pussy was familiar to her. She suckled on the folds near the bottom, licked all the way down to her perineum before tracing back up the length of her vulva to her clit. She knew what her mistress liked—she would focus on the clit for a while, drawing it out from under her hood, before switching to sloppy kisses and sucks all over her vulva. She'd switch back and forth three or four times, until Priscilla would push her face in tight, hissing and muttering obscenities, and make her finish her off on the clit. It almost gave Emilia a sense of satisfaction—that she had done her job well, or perhaps that, in the moments Priscilla cursed and made her little noises of pleasure, Emilia had one shred of power over her, if only fleeting and small.

Everything was going as routine until it wasn’t. Elsa was becoming a problem. Her tongue was giving her a deep massage from inside—one that stripped her of all power and made her feel indecent and violated to her very core, but one that brought out an irrepressible bodily response from her as well. To make matters worse, Elsa's deft fingers were slipping down to Emilia's tight pussy, right to her clit, rolling it between her pointer and thumb. Emilia couldn't focus—her pussy was thrumming with pleasure, thighs starting to shake. She had to stop between pleasuring her mistress just to catch her breath. Then Elsa worked her middle finger inside her, with the pointer extended down to brush against her clit with each little thrust. She was about to cum. 

"Oi," Priscilla growled. "You're not doing it right. What happened to your technique?" 

Emilia started to say something, but Priscilla wrenched her hair painfully. "No—that's not necessary. I can imagine what's happening," she said with a smirk, glancing at Elsa busy with her work, face buried in her pet's rear. "You're losing control of yourself? How embarrassing. Oh well—that's no excuse to be sloppy, you know!" 

She shoved her face back down into her pussy. Emilia was doing her best, but Elsa was just about to push her over the edge, and she really couldn't concentrate. Priscilla's storm of verbal abuse didn't help. "Even when you're not distracted, you can't please me half so well as my other pleasure slaves, did you know that? You mediocre little whore. All looks, no skill. That's alright, though. These next few days with Elsa and I should be  _ very _ educational." 

By the time she couldn't take it anymore, Priscilla abandoned the whole endeavor, just let Emilia slump her forehead down into the bed, and let the orgasm run through her. Elsa could feel her walls tighten around her finger, watched her shudder as she came. Her ass was left coated in Elsa's spit, immaculate pink pussy wet and smeared all over with shiny girlcum. Elsa was a woman of violence, of carnage—but that sight, she admitted, was as perfect and beautiful as entrails spilled across the floor. 

"Oh dear. She abandoned her duty, did she?" 

"Mhm. Seems she couldn't handle the two of us at once," Priscilla said, though she didn't seem angry. She ran her hand through her pet's hair.

"She seems awfully spent already. Did we wear her out so much?" 

"Well, did we, slave? We can't have you going to sleep already. We're only getting started." 

Emilia raised her head up, a dazed and tired look in her eyes. "No, Mistress. I… I live to serve you." 

"There's a good girl," Priscilla said, stroking the bottom of her pet's jaw. Emilia even gave her a weary smile. 

"Now then…" Elsa reached into her sack of tools and produced several objects, including a length of black silk rope and something small and long, a bit bigger than her finger. The girl hardly had a moment to rest before she felt something pushing against her anus. 

\---------------

She was lying on her back now, blindfolded, bound tight enough that she only had to move her limbs an inch or so to feel the rope pulling against her. It was so much easier just to lay back limply and accept it. Her wrists were tied together and bound to the bed's headboard, arms extended behind her head and propped up on some pillows. Her legs were spread apart, wide enough to give her mistresses all the access they needed, with each ankle bound to a separate corner of the bed by black silk rope. One of Elsa's "toys" had been placed inside her ass—an exotic, most likely magical item, with both a soft and firm texture. The most notable feature was that it would throb and thrum inside of Emilia with a simple snap of Elsa's fingers—responding to her mana, most like. It seemed that the toy's intensity could be controlled depending on how much mana her mistress elected to use—from a low buzz to a loud drone that made her feel like she was being shook from the inside. She hated it, hated it, hated it—it made her feel utterly under this woman's thumb, even the control over her own body stripped away—because as much as she hated it, the insistent vibrations insured a steady drip of clear girlcum down her swollen lips and inner thighs. Priscilla berated her for making a mess of the sheets, but couldn't resist shoving her face in between her pet's legs and indulging in the meal in front of her, as it were. She had had her second and third orgasms of the night that way. 

But they didn't intend to simply let her have climax after climax until she passed out. Priscilla insisted on "education"—so currently, Elsa's plump ass was sitting on Emilia's face, flogger in hand. Her nose was practically wedged in her mistress' ass crack, pussy pressed to her lips. The smell of skin and sweat and musk under there was strong and intoxicating, as was the taste of her sopping leaky cunt. Combined with the shortness of breath she suffered from being smothered, she was already light-headed. They made sure to let her know that wouldn't excuse any sloppiness—every time Emilia's tongue started to bore Elsa, or she got lazy, she'd be rewarded with a blow on the thigh or pussy from her flogger. It  _ hurt _ —there was always more skill, more precision in her discipline than Priscilla's. The worst part was when Elsa bent forward to pinch down hard on Emilia's poor clit. 

"You're getting lazy again, girl. Use more circular motions," she said as she twisted her fingers.

Emilia cried out and curled up her toes in agony, tears welling up, doing her best to please her. Eventually Elsa let up, leaning back and smothering the girl's face under her ass again. She casually said, "I do think you're enjoying licking my pussy too much. Eat my ass for a while." 

She only had to shift a few inches to plant her asshole right on her slave's mouth.  _ At least this is slightly more straightforward,  _ Emilia thought with uncharacteristically dark humor. But as she set to rimming the murderess, feeling the salt taste on her mouth, she still couldn't escape the occasional disciplinary strike to her abused vulva. "Don't just ram it in there—circle it with your tongue, kiss it…" 

There was never any choice but to obey. 

Meanwhile, Priscilla had been browsing the contents of Elsa's bag as if the debauchery happening in front of her was only mildly interesting. She had set aside a couple phalluses which interested her, a length of beads of varying sizes, a small thin cane, and candles wrapped in paper. "What are the candles for?" she asked, while Elsa was grinding herself out to a climax on top of Emilia's face. 

"Oh, those? I'll show you in a moment," she said, taking a couple breaths. "Kiss my pussy, girl. Gentle on the comedown now. Gentle."

She lifted her fat ass off the poor girl, revealing a weary face covered in girlcum, gasping for air. The black blindfold only added to her helpless, miserable appearance. Elsa snapped her finger and turned off the buzzing buttplug, giving the slave a moment of reprieve. The two mistresses were sitting beside Emilia's bound, outstretched body, Priscilla down by Emilia's feet with her legs casually to the side, and Elsa on her knees, looming over her with sinister intent. She looked as if she might dissect her. 

"It smells like a brothel in here. We could use the candle."

"Is that really what it's for? I have plenty of candles in here—" 

"No," she said with amusement, lighting a match (another exotic technology) and taking the half-unwrapped candle from Priscilla's hand. "This is what it's for."

She lit the wick. Before their eyes, the white wax started to liquify and pool around the wick's base, like any other candle. Emilia could smell its odor in the air and started looking around in confusion. The next thing she knew, a hot, searing pain was spreading across her breasts and forcing a high squeal out of her. 

"You pour the wax on her?" Priscilla said with amazement.

"Indeed. It's a gentle punishment, but… fresh and exciting." 

"I never would have thought to do that!" 

_ Gentle? _ Emilia reflexively twisted her body and fruitlessly strained against her bonds as droplets of hot wax fell across her breasts and belly. It burned. 

"Gods, Elsa… you really are something else." Priscilla was watching Emilia squirm around and whine with fascination, but her gaze was drawn as if by gravitational pull towards the mastermind of the torture. She blushed like a maiden watching Elsa at her work, admiring her composure and perpetually pleased smile as she dripped wax with precision onto Emilia's thighs and mound. The only woman in the world who would bring her exotic sex toys from far corners of the world, share her bed, join her perverted little games, and be her personal sword. She was enchantingly beautiful to boot. "Gods…" 

She wrapped her arms around the cruel woman, planted a wet kiss on her cheek. The motion caused Elsa's hand to waver ever so slightly and drop a bit of wax directly onto Emilia's folds. "Oh my," Elsa said, eyes turning towards the Queen who had pressed her body against hers. "Someone's excited." 

"I might be falling in love with you," she said, sloppily kissing the corner of her mouth and reaching her hand down to touch the sweet warmth of Elsa's cunt. 

"My Queen, may I ask how I am to teach the slave with you—" she was cut off with a heavy kiss. Priscilla was obscuring her view of Emilia's body entirely now, the candle held out awkwardly and leaking onto Elsa's hand. "Fuck the candle," Priscilla said. "Give it to me." She snatched it from Elsa's hand before shaking it haphazardly over Emilia's pussy region, sending white wax all over her and the sheets beneath her. (It was for this purpose that Elsa had made sure to put a thin layer of sheet beneath Emilia's body before tying her down.) The girl was crying out again, but less from pain now so much as a despair that there was nothing to be done but lie there and endure the torment. Priscilla blew out the candle and let it lie between Emilia's breasts while she returned to Elsa, shoving her face between her enormous breasts. 

"My, you really can't control yourself, can you…?" 

"We were fated to be together," she said, possessed by a sudden lust. She was pushing Elsa onto her backside now with her urgent caresses, Emilia left to lie there in the middle of the bed as if forgotten. Mouth seeked out lips, nipples, the crook of her neck. The dark woman was content to lie back and enjoy the Queen's affection, closing her eyes and lazily playing around with Priscilla's tongue in her mouth as fingers slid in and out of her cunt. Then the position changed—Priscilla spread Elsa's legs wide and moved into a squat-like position to grind the both of their pussies together. For once, the dark woman let out a rare "Gods—!" in a low hiss of pleasure. The touch of pussy on pussy was unbelievable—the friction of their thoroughly soaked vulvas was building up a heat in their loins, while lightning bolts might as well have shot through them each time their clits slid together. They sloppily ground out to a fast, hard, mutual orgasm—but they weren't done yet. 

Elsa—still beneath Priscilla's sweaty body—fumbled for one of the exotic phalluses, otherwise known as "dildos", that had been set aside on the bed. Grooves cut into its strangely firm-yet-soft texture glowed purple as the object resonated with her mana, beginning to thrum and vibrate. At the same time, the mana must have triggered the toy still nestled in Emilia's ass, which began to buzz aggressively and make her whine piteously. They continued to ignore her. Elsa slid it down her belly and pressed the throbbing dildo's tip to where their pussies were smooshed together, touching both of their clits at once. Instantly, the two of them groaned obscenities under their breath. 

"Whoever invented this deserves a knighthood…!" 

"You'll knight anyone, won't you…?" 

"Only those w-who entertain me," she said. Priscilla sat up and leaned back on her palms as she fucked on Elsa's pussy with the cock wedged between them and thrumming. Elsa threw her head back cringing from the pleasure, lying there parallel next to Emilia and reaching out her hand to wrap around the blindfolded slave's jaw, who squirmed and turned her head about in confusion from the sudden touch. For her all was darkness and fucking sounds and moans at her side and throbbing in her asshole. 

The two of them once more fucked each other to climax. Priscilla finally crawled off of the other woman's body, the both of them drenched in sweat and reeking of cunt. Even for unusually perverted individuals such as them, women like hungry animals, they were getting tired. Priscilla had had enough for the night, truth be told. And yet when she looked at the girl laying there like an angel tethered to earth, she darkened with anger and snatched up the still vibrating dildo from Elsa's hands. 

She knelt between Emilia's legs and brushed the head of the cock against her folds. "Feel that? Do you feel that?" 

"Ah, n-no, please don't…!" She whimpered. 

"I said, can you feel it?!" She moved it up until the head was vibrating right under her hooded clit.

"I can, I can!" She could certainly feel it. It was strong, too strong. Between the vibrations from her ass and on her clit, she felt like she might explode from overstimulation. "Please, Mistress, it's too much…" she begged. 

"Oh, you've had enough, have you? Did you forget who makes the decisions for you?" She angled it lower and pushed the tip at the entrance to her pussy. 

"May I suggest something?" Elsa said, coming around behind Priscilla's back, resting her jaw on her shoulder, and presenting her with an odd device of joined leather straps. "This harness," she said, "can be worn around your hips. We can fit the toy you're holding in it so that it sticks out. You can fuck her like a man. Isn't that wonderful?" 

Priscilla's lips parted. "Are you serious? I can fuck her like I have my own… cock?" 

"Quite serious. It's one of my many gifts to you, my Queen." 

"That's…" She turned to Elsa again mixed incredulous and lip quivering with excitement and pecked her quickly on the lips. "Help me get this on, then. But first…" 

She stretched forward, reached around to the back of Emilia's head and undid her blindfold. The light was harsh on her blinking, weary eyes like one emerging from a cave. The two mistresses appeared like shadows of mad doctors looming over her bent on cutting her apart before her eyes adjusted and she saw Elsa pulling the strap-on up Priscilla's thighs. She prepared herself for more violation. 

When Elsa had set the harness in place, she kissed her Queen's back and groped her plump spankable ass framed so nicely by the straps and cooed "Go on, fuck her," in her ear. Priscilla grinned and positioned herself above Emilia on her hands and knees. She was about to ease the cock—her cock—inside her, antsy with the idea of fucking her into submission when she noticed silent tears streaming down Emilia's face. She was hardly making noise, just quietly crying. "Huh?" 

Emilia sniffled. "P-Please, Mistress… go on." 

This felt wrong. For some reason, she found herself thinking of the conversation she had had with her that afternoon:  _ Don't be scared. I'll take care of you. _ Of course, she had lied. It was never not a lie, every word of kindness, every farce of mercy. Her actions spoke the truth. And yet, guilt welled up inside her while she looked down at her there, crying and piteous, telling her to go on with it and be done with it. A sense that she might have gone too far passed over her, and then the craze of lust and wrath seemed to subside and she became more conscious of her own fatigue from an hour's worth of unbridled depravity. She froze there.

The girl whispered in her small voice. "What's wrong…?"

"What's wrong?" Said Elsa, more pointedly. Priscilla stood straight up on her knees. "I'm done. I'm too tired to fuck. Let's play with her tomorrow." 

"Oh, is that so?" She seemed disappointed, though there was perhaps a hint of amusement there as well.

"Yes. Get this thing off of me." 

"I thought you liked it." 

"I do. Now  _ get it off _ ," she said. She was darkening with emotions she didn't want to confront. "And get her bonds off as well. And that thing inside her." 

\---------------

By the time they went to bed it was late into the night. They had to wake the serving women to change the sheets stained with cum and sweat and wax and run showers for their sweaty bodies. Elsa and Priscilla washed one another, while the Queen sent Alys and Mor to bathe Emilia and told them "Be gentle and brief and set her down in my bed when you're done." She knew Alys had a gentle nature, and it would suffice for Mor to follow orders.

Her and Elsa were so tired that they hardly even had shenanigans in the shower. Elsa sat there rubbing soap into her back and asked her whether she was growing too fond of her slave. 

"What?"

"I only noticed a certain streak of lenience." 

"Lenience? What on earth are you talking about? I don't understand how I could be lenient with her when I spend my time tormenting her." 

"Oh, that isn't true," she smiled. "You have complete power over her. You could be far more cruel." 

She stared back at her and thought. "Like you?" 

"Well…" She closed her eyes and never finished the statement. 

She scoffed. "You'd take a bullwhip to her back if I let you. You're sick." 

"And you aren't?" 

"Hah? I should remind you that you're speaking to your Queen." 

"I am?" Her soapsud-ridden hand slid over Priscilla's hip and around to dip between her thighs. "I thought I was talking to my own little…  _ slut. _ " 

"W-What?" Elsa's tongue lapped at the bottom of her ear as her face quickly turned pink. "D-Don't play around. I would never be anyone's slut…" 

"Hm. Alright." Her hand and mouth slipped away like smoke. 

"B-Besides. Emili—that girl—is just a half-elf. She doesn't have any rights. I'm more than entitled to do with her what I please." 

"Certainly you are." 

They let the matter rest. 

When they returned to bed, fresh in light silks and smelling of soap and perfume, she found the bed clean with the half-elf girl already curled up in sleep on the far side of the mattress. They set their tired bodies down with Priscilla in the middle, Elsa and Emilia on either side of her. The bed was more than massive enough for the three of them. She shared a few light kisses with her guest but the energy was gone at this late hour and she turned towards the half-elf while Elsa sank into sleep like a stone. 

There was more than enough space, but she huddled near Emilia anyway, who had escaped to the world of sleep for now with her back turned to the Queen. Priscilla's fingers moved under the blanket to gently run up the girl's arm, feeling the smooth, cool skin. 

"You belong to me, don't you…?" Her voice was a whisper. 

"You won't leave, will you…? You'll stay with me, right here."

"Forever."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First thing: I've heard that Elsa doesn't actually use magic whatsoever in canon but I've elected to change that because it fits my story. 
> 
> Second: The character of Mor is a reference to another anime/manga if you can tell : ]
> 
> Third: I'm not sure when or if I'll write a sequel to this chapter but do be on the lookout for my other Rezero fics cause I've got some good shit cooking up
> 
> Thanks for reading and leave a comment if you like, they really make my day


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